


The Closer to the Bone, the Sweeter the Meat

by bigasstrees



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Espionage, F/F, F/M, Forced Prostitution, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 20:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17210294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigasstrees/pseuds/bigasstrees
Summary: Archer has finally met a mission he doesn't want.





	The Closer to the Bone, the Sweeter the Meat

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so... this is a little outside my comfort zone because of the canon-typical misogyny, racism and general bad behavior but I decided to power through it because of my burning and consuming love of this hot mess we call Archer. I'm thinking of turning this into a multi-chapter saga and set it up that way but it really depends on what the response is like.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

“-definitely Algonquin for ‘blood sport’, which is why it’s the greatest sport ever created and if Heaven existed and there was a gallery of badasses, right next to Burt Reynolds, there’d be a picture of every single professional lacrosse player to win sin-“

“Since the sport was invented by the Iroquois people indigenous to North America? Because I highly doubt the Iroquois had a concept of heaven, trophies or galleries, for that matter.”

“Well, _Ray_ , since you bring it up…” Sterling’s hand curled into a fist and his eyes narrowed at the other agent. “You’re probably just jealous since your people-“

“My _people_?” Ray balked, his hand jumping to his chest. “Are you seriously-?”

“For shit’s sake, _let me finish_ … haven’t won anything worthwhile since… disco dancing went competitive!”

“Right. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ben Reeves, I’ve gotta bump and hustle my way to your mother’s office for a briefing on - her words - ‘one of the most important missions that will ever fall into Isis hands’ that you are, shockingly, not a part of!”

“Only because I’m way too important to spare! Please, she needed to send sentient meat shields because she can’t afford to lose Lana and risk another diversity hire.”

Ray paused in the doorway and crossed his arms, looking Archer up and down, nose wrinkled in disgust. 

“Risk?”

“You know, after Conway double-crossing the shit out of us! Not because of… racial reasons, N double-gay CP!” Archer took a swig of the glass of scotch clenched in his right hand, shooting icy blue daggers back at Ray. “Come on. I think you know me better than that.”

“Oh, I know you plenty.” Ray responded, rolling his eyes. “Six o’ clock.”

“Ray, I’m not going on a date with you and I’m not a senior citizen so dinner’s not until at leas-“

“No, your six ‘o clock, idiot.”

Archer turned around, glass raised to his lips to feel an angry, gigantic palm pound into the side of his face, knocking the drink out of his grip, making him spill all over his hand-tailored Brioni jacket.

“What the shit!” Archer and Lana both shouted at each other, Archer jumping back and shaking his wet hand out, Lana shoving her chest out in indignation as she stomped her heavy boot against the carpet.

“Lana! It’s wool, not from the discount whore warehouse you shop at!” Archer shouted, frozen in position, seething over his now-drenched wool suit.

“Meat shields! Diversity hire!” Lana shot back at him, shoving him square in the chest, causing him to stumble back a couple steps. “You seriously think Malory put me on this because I’m Black, don’t you?! It couldn’t _possibly_ be that I’m a better agent than you, right?!”

Archer shook himself out of his surprise, perhaps even a little more pissed off than usual that she’d gotten the drop on him.

“Do you hear that, Lana? It’s Johnny Bench calling, he wants his sausage-y fingers back. And what’s with you and the race card? It’s like your conversational royal flush! No, this time, I think it’s because you’re a woman.”

Lana let out a loud, humorless ‘ha!’ while crossing her arms across her chest. “That’d be a first. Preferential treatment in the workplace on account of being a woman. Do you hear that, Archer? It’s history calling. It’d like to talk to you about the perfectly intact glass ceiling in America.”

“Shouldn’t it be ‘her-story’, bell hooks? Oh, please, like you don’t use the fact you’re a woman to-“

“What? Get paid less? Be at a higher risk of sexual assault if captured or just walking down the damn street? Have to deal with pricks like you questioning my accomplishments every day of my natural life?”

“No, idiot! I was going to say get a free drink with entry before 10PM on ladies’ night at-“

“And just why do you think we get the free drinks, Archer?” Lana asked, raising an eyebrow, irony locked and loaded.

“Well, I’m assuming that despite your hands, they can see you’re still a woman, Lana-“

“Shut up! It’s to lure men there who want to be around women with their guard down!”

Archer tilted his head and looked at his feet. “Huh. Okay so… reason two is definitely off my list now.”

“I’m assuming reason one to be a woman was to sleep with Kenny Loggins.”

“Spoiler alert, wrong, idiot. It’s Marvin Gaye. I mean… I’m assuming he was straight. I don’t know why. Huh. Ray, were there any gay rumors about Marvin Gaye?”

Ray, who had been pouring a drink of his own hissed, “Why are you asking me, Archer?”

“I assumed it would be obvious, what with the gay cabal you ment-…. Oh. You were joking.”

Lana shoved past Archer on her way into Malory’s office, bumping him hard with her shoulder. “Seriously?”

Archer spun around to face Lana’s back… and take stock of her ass was looking in her sweater dress that particular day. Definitely a solid 8.

“I don’t know, Lana, there was no ‘secret, sinister homosexual organizations’ classes available when I was in school.”

“When you went to college for what… a month before mommy had to pull you out? Well, you incompetent ass, Ray was fucking with you and for your information, I was put on this mission because I’m a top agent, not because I’m Black or a woman!”

Malory appeared with an unsettling silence behind the three of them and said, “Sterling, you should know better. Lana’s right. It’s because she’s both.”

Ray, Lana and Archer all jumped a little when she cut in and as she took a sip out of her tumbler, Sterling shouted, “Woo! I knew it! I knew I was the top agent here!”

Malory rolled her eyes as they parted a path for her to cut through and take a seat at her desk. “I was merely negating the ‘or’. Sterling, it would take me hours to explain the flaw in _your_ statement.”

Archer all but tossed the ice into his tumbler with the tongs after Malory spoke, putting his head down slightly. “But we can safely say Ms. Gillette was never in danger of being best…”

She trailed off, searching for a word.

“Agent?” Ray asked, resignation in his tone.

“Name it,” Malory replied. 

“Now, listen up. Plans have changed. It turns out Sterling will be vital to the mission’s success.”

Both Ray and Lana sighed, slumping into their chairs and taking a drink as Archer let out a, “Best! Agent! Ever!”

Malory rolled her eyes as Lana got a desperate look and Ray scrubbed a hand over his face in annoyance.

“But Malory-“

“But Malory! But Malory! But Malory _what_? I’d say yours is plenty, missy, we don’t need anymore ‘buts’ in this room.”

Lana seethed under barely maintained deference. “I just thought… that after reading the dossier, Ray and I were going to do this one together. I mean… Ray’s only coming because I need a pilot. But seeing as we’re infiltrating-“

“Well, that’s why you need Sterling! Miss Saigon,” Malory gestured to Ray’s bento box sitting to his right. “Wouldn’t know the term ‘straight-acting’ if he’d been born yesterday and slapped on the ass with a rolled-up Hustler!”

Lana was still evidently confused, untouched drink sweating in her hand. “But-“

“We’re going to need to sweeten the deal. Agent Okereke was very… specific with the information he provided us about the… sensitive nature of this organization.”

Lana raised an eyebrow, clearly not liking where this conversation was going and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Which means…”

“Which means… our target’s partial to white meat,” Malory replied, finishing her drink. “And I do stress ‘meat’.”

Before anyone could react, Lana put her face in her hands and groaned, prompting Archer to slam his drink back and knock his glass down against the bar triumphantly.

“Please don’t say that again, mother. Ever. But THE HONEY POT!” He sang, glancing over to Lana to rub it in her big dumb face, he thought. But she was looking back at him and…grinning. Which admittedly totally creeped him out and his face fell. “Wait. What are you doing with your face, Lana?”

“You’’re right, Malory,” Lana finally said, folding her hands in her lap as sweetly as a girl in Sunday school, voice dripping with sadistic glee that only Archer would recognize from their previous years together. This was how she sounded when she got to wield the ping-pong paddle or when he had just stepped in a pile of dog shit and was tracking it on his rug.

“Ray really isn’t cut out for this. I mean. Archer is obviously the ‘go-to’ guy when you think about it.”

“Well, then it’s settled. You fly to Africa tomorrow in our jet.”

“Can’t wait,” Lana said like a cat batting a mouse, jade eyes still glinting Archer’s way.

“I’m not going to waste the paper on him, Pam says it’s ‘greener’”, Malory stated with a roll of her eyes. “Be a dear and brief Sterling before you go? You’re agent in command, after all.”

Ray was smiling at him too, now, apparently in on the same joke Lana found so damn funny.

“Oh, I will.”

“That’s all, then. I have an important phone call to make so I’d appreciate if you’d close the door on your way out.”

“Mmhm.” Lana got up as Archer’s hand hovered over his empty glass, eyebrows knit in an expression of concern and annoyance that he wasn’t in on whatever Lana and Ray found so damn funny. 

“Come on,” Lana said, grabbing Archer by the bend in his elbow and leading him out of the room almost _gracefully_. Something was definitely up. Ray trailed behind Lana and once they were out of the room, Lana sighed happily and leaned against the wall, Ray barely suppressing a big, stupid grin as he leaned next to her behind Cheryl’s empty desk.

“Okay, what the fuck are you smiling at, Tweedle Dee and Dumbfuck?” Archer asked warily, eyes shifting between them. “I’m on the mission (which will be sexy as hell with Chet Manle-no, Randy on the case), still the perfect and only gentleman among us and my hair is as thick as a flourishing wheat field. If anything, I’d be crying in your respective bathroom stalls right now over how unfairly life has distributed its gifts.”

Lana just grinned and said, “Actually, I agree with your mother on this. You’re exactly what we need. After all, who else is better qualified to infiltrate this women-run sex slavery ring as the hot, piping white meat dish we’ve all been waiting for?”

“Randy Randleson does not get captured and sold into sex slavery.”

“I know. That’s why you’re going to be Paul Gilbert Cousteau, French catalogue model,” Lana replied, saying his name in perfectly accented French.

Archer blanched as he heard his role and started, “Catalogues? You’ve got to be kidding me, that’d be all glamor muscles and mine are built for core strength! That name is so gay. _No_ , come on, Ray speaks French and he’s g-“

“And he’s my pilot and I’m an incredibly rich woman with…” Lana reached out and ‘boop’ed Archer on the nose. “An incredibly important offer to gain access to a seat at the big girls’ table. Besides, just because your clientele could include men doesn’t make you gay, mon petit filet.” 

“I… literally hate you and this entire place,” Archer replied, glaring into Lana’s eyes, which were stunning enough to take any real sting out of it but it did sound a bit like his spirit leaving his body with every retort.

“Don’t worry, Archer, I won’t tell Marvin Gaye. Or Joe Fraizer.” With that, Lana pushed off the wall, an extra sway in her hips, smirk still firmly plastered on her lips and went to the armory. 

“Or anyone else.”

“No one, really. Just texted Pam,” Ray said cheerfully.

With that, Archer raised his hand and brought it down as fast and hard as he could on Ray’s neatly-packed bento box, scattering the food all over the floor, sashimi grade tuna littering the sickly green rug.

“Jesus, Archer. Do you want ants?” Ray sighed, walking away from the remains of his lunch to procure a new one, phone buzzing with a text back from Pam. “Because that’s how you get ants.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are my bread and butter, they keep me motivated and salty enough to write these maniacs. Please leave any kudos and comments you have and be gentle, as this is un-beta'd, quickly conceived and my first foray into this fandom!


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